


Rough

by MaraudingTurkey



Category: Hayate X Blade
Genre: Also Starring a Dog, Alternate Universe, And Some Non-Graphic References to Violence, F/F, No Tenchi, Rated "T" For Copious Amounts of Hot Chocolate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-04
Updated: 2016-12-04
Packaged: 2018-09-06 12:02:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 21,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8750035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaraudingTurkey/pseuds/MaraudingTurkey
Summary: K-9 officer Someya Yukari is worn thin, constantly stressed, and on the edge of being relegated to desk duty and therapy sessions. Everything is falling apart around her, it feels like, and she has no idea how to fix it; no idea if she even wants to. So when she finds herself constantly in the company of an artist that frequents her nearby park, she's just relieved that there's at least one person in the world who doesn't treat her like a ticking time bomb.Or, a slice-of-life style AU where Yukari and Maki are trying to avoid their problems, but accidentally help each other face them instead.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was meant to be a short fic to help me get over my writer's block that I was facing for another project. It was about when I was thirty pages in that I realized that I had a monster on my hand. Whoops.
> 
> The story is told entirely through Yukari's POV, and I did my best to keep it true to character. I was somewhat put out when, upon re-reading the manga, I discovered that she is... self-centered and totally oblivious to other people's feelings. Maki, too, is terrible with sharing her thoughts. What a pair, right? So if any of you have questions about Maki's side of this story, feel free to send me a message; I would be happy to explain.

**Chapter 1**

Work was rough.

Of course, she knew that years before getting into the job. How could she not, when both parents were officers -or had been, in her mother’s case- themselves? She had expected the long hours, the days, weeks, months, of stress and exhaustion, of facing the less than pleasant side of her town. She thought she could handle it, could endure the strain.

And she could. But that didn’t mean it was easy.

“What about you? Do you think I was too hard on him?”

Her recently acquired and furry partner looked up at her, ears twitching at her voice. He sneezed.

“Good. He was an idiot.”

They continued their circuit in silence, both content in their opinion of the earlier night’s altercation. The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, the sky slowly transitioning from pink to blue. It was nice and quiet out, with no sign of any human other than her and a dedicated artist in the park they were jogging around.

“Tired yet?” she asked her partner.

He continued along without pausing.

“A few more circuits will be fine, then. We’ll need some sleep before our scolding tomorrow.”

Her phone rang, loud and rude in the tranquility of the park. Birds rustled, Ichigo stopped, and the artist was distracted from their work.  She pulled out her phone, feeling her stress rise at the abrupt intrusion of reality in her morning jog. “Daisuke” her screen read, letters dark against the white glow.

She silenced her phone and shoved it back in her pocket. As much as she wanted to release some stress, she suddenly felt too tired to deal with it all.

“Tch. Let’s go home, boy.”

**~X~**

“I heard you made another one cry.”

She sighed.

“How many is that now?”

A shrug was her answer. It wasn’t like she bothered to keep track of that sort of thing. All of the rookies looked the same, after a while.

Her mother frowned. “Do you need to talk about it, Yukari?”

And there it was. “There’s nothing to talk about. He’s an idiot who refuses to take his job seriously, and it nearly got his partner killed. Making him cry was the least he deserved.” It was only a shame that actually strangling the moron would have resulted in way too much paperwork and anger management classes. 

This time, even her father was unconvinced. “One, two, three times, and it wouldn’t be an issue, Yukari. I’ve done it plenty of times myself.” Keiji ignored his wife’s groan. “Ten times in half as many months though…”

She looked away and refused to answer. The few people walking by on the sidewalk next to their outdoor table at the restaurant were more interesting than the current conversation.

They got the hint and dropped the subject, if unwillingly. They would bring it up again, she knew. She would give them the same answer, they knew.

“How are things with Daisuke?”

Yet another topic she didn’t care for. “Fine, I guess.”

“You’ve been dating for three months, and it’s just  _ fine _ ?”

“We haven’t talked in a few days.”

Her mother’s frown never changed, and she figured this wasn’t the answer she wanted. It was left unsaid that it wasn’t without effort on his part. He called or messaged every day, but she just wanted peace. Quiet. Things she wouldn’t get listening to him whine about the job or make rude comments about people he’d seen. She was sure she had enjoyed his company, once, or at the very least, hadn’t  _ hated it _ , but she couldn’t bring herself to waste her energy on someone she merely “didn’t hate”.

“He’s not that impressive anyway,” her father firmly stated, arms crossed and pointedly looking in the direction opposite his wife. His square glasses were shining in the sun, hiding his eyes, but there was no hiding his satisfied smirk.

“ _ Keiji. _ ”

**~X~**

“Okay. This time I can admit that I might have gone too far.”

Ichigo whimpered.

She sighed, her catchphrase by now, and wondered if maybe everyone had a right to be worried. At least, in this case, not even the chief had given her a sideways glance for reaming out the officer that had let the suspect escape because he was on his  _ phone _ .

Eventually, one of the detectives had patted her on the shoulder and told her to go on back to the precinct to cool off. The next day, the kid had transferred to another district.

The chief had forced her to take time off because of it. Again.

“Shoving him against the wall is probably what did it.”

They continued their jog silently. Peacefully.

The artist was back, appearing somewhere around their third circuit. Their stuff was already set up, a brush in their right hand and paint palette in their left. 

It reminded her of her art club days back in high school. She’d enjoyed it, and had been proud of the progress she had made during her time there. After graduating, however, she was too busy with university and then the police academy to pick up a paintbrush again.

On their fifth circuit, she had slowed enough to take a longer look at the mostly finished painting. The artist (a female, she determined by her sixth circuit) was incredibly talented. She wondered what someone of that skill level was doing at a little park like this. There were plenty of better views within the city than a stretch of grass housing a small pond, scattered trees, and a sorry excuse for a playground.

Her phone beeped at her, the third time in the last hour. Like the previous messages, it was ignored. Speeding up her pace, she decided she would text back when she was in the mood.

It remained in her pocket until long after she returned home.

_ Are you alright? _

_ Will you talk to me? _

_ Do you even care? _

She never responded.

**~X~**

_ “It’s just a stupid animal! It was useless anyway.” _

Feet pounding on the pavement.

_ “Just get me another one. One that actually listens this time.” _

Pulse pounding in her ears.

_ “Little shit got what it deserves.” _

Her leg gave out, her body sliding across the pavement. Her arm and shoulder took the brunt of the pain, but it was almost indistinguishable from the burning pain in her legs, lungs, and ribs.

A whimper sounded above her, and a wet nose poked at her face. Ichigo, her ever faithful partner, had ran every mile with her, and his breathing was just as harsh as hers. She felt bad for pushing him, should have known to leave him at home this time, but she hadn’t thought that far, only wanting to get out and get moving  _ now _ .

She had pushed herself too far. Her strength, and the anger that fueled it, was disappearing now that she had stopped moving. Limbs quivering and breath wheezing, she seriously contemplated never getting back up.

Then something was  _ pulling _ her up, and she had no energy to protest.

“That’s no good.”

It hurt to move, and her injured leg was almost unable to hold her weight. A strong arm was slung around her waist, her nose catching the faint smell of paint and hot chocolate. The two stumbled along to the nearest park bench, where she was gently placed. Her mind insisted she say something, but speaking was beyond her. Instead, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back, trying to even out her breathing. Even with her eyes shut, the world twisted and turned, making it impossible to think.

A water bottle was shoved into her good hand, cap already off. The clanking of plastic told her that the woman had pulled out Ichigo’s collapsible bowl and a second water bottle to fill it. Officer and dog gulped down the water with desperation, not caring how much they spilled in the process.

Poor Ichigo. He deserved more than simple treats for what she had done to him.

There was more rustling, this time of plastic and wooden brushes, telling her that the artist was now digging through her own bag. She didn’t feel the need to question the artist on what she was looking for, but it became obvious when a small, wet pad was pressed against her knee. The alcohol pads burned against the large scrapes, but after her initial yelp, the pain was endured with a clenched jaw and a small hiss.

She considered it karma for being such an idiot in the first place.

“Thank you.”

“It was nothing.”

The artist smiled at her, but asked no questions. She offered no explanation. A sketchbook was brought out, and the two remained quiet. Without the expectation of conversation, her anger and stress ebbed away as, stroke by stroke, a world formed beneath the tip of a pencil.

Not once did her phone go off.

**~X~**

“Goodness, Yukari. What happened?”

“Just an accident.”

Her mother eyed the scrape on her arm with suspicion. Thankfully, only her shoulder and knee had required bandages, but the rest of her bruises had darkened overnight. She’d been lucky enough to have thrown on a quarter sleeve shirt this morning, or else her mother would have had much more to say.

“Now what happened to earn you a three day suspension?”

Her movements halted for a fraction of a second as irritation, anger, and sheer  _ hate  _ went through her at the memory of the altercation the other night.

“Hitoshi beat his partner.”

There was no need to say more. Her mother had not only heard of the officer in question from both her daughter and husband, but had also been a K-9 officer herself at one point.

“I may have punched him. A few times.”

She could still remember his shouting, the sounds of his fists hitting dog flesh, and the terrible yelps poor Shiro had let out at the betrayal. Her memories of the last half of the incident were lost in a haze of rage. To do such a thing to a creature with such a deep loyalty and devotion. It was unforgivable. When he had thrown a punch at her for interrupting the abuse, she had been nothing but satisfied that she was given an excuse to put him out. Her retaliation hits had been too few and too precisely aimed at disabling the bastard to get her in much trouble, the chief handing out her suspension so dismissively she assumed it was merely for appearances that he bothered to reprimand her at all.

“...I see.”

The cold tone and sneer was enough to let her know that her mother approved her actions. She was surprised her father hadn’t figured out the details of it all, but Hitoshi’s father was a long time member of the city council. They had no doubt swept everything under the rug within hours of the incident.

“Do you want to get lunch then? Your father remembered his food today.”

Her lips quirked into a soft smile.

“Yeah.”

Ichigo barked.

“Of course  _ you’re  _ coming. Now. About Daisuke.”

She sighed. “There’s nothing to say about him.”

Her mother shook her head. “Your father will be pleased,” was all she offered on the subject.

**~X~**

“Ah, it was worth a try, don’t you think?”

Resting her hands on her knees with a wince, she scolded herself, again, for losing control four days ago. Her leg still ached, and she’d reopened the biggest scab while chasing after a vandal some hours ago. By the time she had gotten time to take care of the injury, blood had soaked through her pants and dripped down her leg, staining her socks. Her arm was in little better condition. 

She hadn’t  _ really _ expected to be able to run after that, so it was no huge disappointment that she couldn’t.

Ichigo whined and sniffed at her pack, demanding she pour him some water.

Rolling her eyes, she pulled her pack off. “We didn’t even get to run. You should be fine.”

She was in the process of getting his bottle out when he spun around and starting walking away. “Now where do you think you’re-” she stopped, noticing the figure in the distance. 

From this far, silver hair and an easel were the only details she could make out, but that was more than enough to be certain of who it was. Before she could stop herself, Ichigo’s water bottle was shoved back in her bag and she was following after her partner.

“Ah, hello,” the artist greeted, head tilting as she smiled at them. “And hello to you too,” she cooed at Ichigo, who happily accepted her attention.

“Good morning.”

For some reason, she felt awkward and at a total loss for conversation topics. The memory of her first meeting -if it could be called that- with the artist was fresh on her mind. Taking the time to subtly observe the woman, she wondered how someone that slight of build could have possibly picked her up and all but carried her to the bench.

The artist hummed, unoffended with the somewhat short greeting. Sharp eyes -light brown or hazel, she couldn’t be sure- studied her arm. “It reopened. Are you alright?”

Glancing down, she saw that some blood had soaked through the fresh bandages, bright red spots against the otherwise pristine white cloth. If her  _ arm  _ hadn’t stopped bleeding, she was sure that her leg hadn’t either. “No. I decided against my jog, but I didn’t want to neglect Ichigo of his walk.”

“Ah, so you’re Ichigo, huh? Well, don’t you two hold back on my account,” she told them, directing most of her attention to the dog, who nudged her hand in demand of another round of petting.

“We’re not in any rush,” the officer claimed. 

In spite of her words, she called Ichigo over soon after and they continued their walk, leaving the other woman with a last goodbye.

Even so, she found her eyes drifting over to the artist and her painting every time they passed her, and every time, her gaze was met with a smile.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

“No jogging today?”

Ichigo had, once again, wandered over to the artist. His fluffy tail beat against the grass as he was treated to a vigorous rubbing, ears flat against his skull in lazy content.

“My leg isn’t fully healed yet, unfortunately.”

“Hmm. It _was_ a rough fall.”

“Yeah…”

Neither spoke, unsure of where to take the conversation from there. Ichigo was left to roll in the grass, the artist setting up her easel with a whistle and smile that held any awkwardness at bay.

“You’re starting a new painting?” The officer couldn’t stop herself from noting the blank canvas, for lack of better topics.

The artist shrugged and gave her a sheepish grin, rubbing the back of her neck with some embarrassment. “I’m not actually painting this park, just whatever comes to mind.”

“Huh.” She wondered why the artist would come all the way out here for that, instead of staying home. The question was at the tip of her tongue, but, “That’s interesting,” was what came out instead.

It must have been the right thing to say, because the woman’s grin became slightly brighter, her eyes lighter, and back a little straighter, at her declaration. She felt her own lips form a smile.

“Do you mind if we watch?”

“Not at all! Not at all.”

**~X~**

“Having fun with anger management, Someya?”

Tanuki, whose real name was never used, smacked her shoulder with a laugh. Her hand twitched in an effort to keep herself from responding with a punch.

“...I got a free stress ball.”

And that was literally the only good thing that had come of her forced classes. Judging from the snorts of others in the area, she wasn’t alone in doubting the effectiveness of having to sit and listen to a therapist tell her why she was angry. The sessions tended to have the _opposite_ effect on her, even. The condescending attitude of the woman set her on edge as everything from daddy issues to a need to prove herself to the men were offered as explanation for her tendency to make people cry in shame and fear.

The day that the therapist had suggested _sex_ , she had promptly walked out. Scolding be damned, she did _not_ get paid enough for this bullshit.

“Just sit there and nod every so often. They take silence as agreement. Gets you outta there faster. Throw in the occasional, “never thought of that.” Makes them feel like their degree was actually worth something.”

“Our records read like a damn psych book though, let me tell ya.”

“They come up with new reasons every time you get sent in, I swear.”

“What the hell is this? Storytime?! Get back to work!” The chief scowled at them from his office entrance.

“And Someya? Just finish the goddamn sessions. I hate that woman, but she’s who we’re stuck with, got it? My advice? Get yourself a hobby like the rest of us.”

“Get yourself a ball of _yarn_ and knit like a _proper_ woman.”

“Knitting is useful, you chauvinist pig.”

“Pfft. And you wonder why the last therapist claimed you were gay, Kataoka.”

Tuning out the argument, she wondered if watching an artist paint could be counted as a hobby.

**~X~**

She sat on the park bench, staring off into space. Winter was rolling on in with a vengeance this year, and it was cold, too cold to be safe outdoors, but she didn’t feel like moving. Another long shift. Another sleepless day. She needed the peace, needed the solitude that the empty park offered.

The slow, white puffs of her breathing were almost invisible in the cloudy morning. Ichigo whined from his spot next to her on the bench. He was restless and confused. She blinked. Birds were rustling nearby, but there was no sign of any other human.

The artist hadn’t shown up, for the fourth time this week. After three weeks of near daily interaction, she was allowed to be disappointed, right?

“...Let’s go, boy.”

**~X~**

“He can’t get a scent.”

“Useless animal. That’s what happens when they let rookies play around. Why don’t you go back home to your mommy, little girl, and play with your dolls? This isn’t a damned game, and we don’t have time to sit around watching you fail!”

Kataoka snarled at the detective. “Shut your damned mouth, you arrogant bastard. If you hadn’t let the media stomp all over this place before we could get here, there wouldn’t be a problem! But _no_ , your incompetent ass just had to go ruin the entire goddamn crime scene! I don’t know how you even passed the academy, but you are done with this case!”

Yukari let Kataoka tear into the guy, jaw clenched tightly and muscles tense in an effort to keep herself from punching the detective who had the gall to scold her for his idiocy.

Her canine partner sat at her side, ears lowered with the weight of his failure. She pet him comfortingly. It wasn’t his fault, after all, no matter how the others had glared at her until Kataoka had stepped in.

**~X~**

Ichigo barked, slowing his jog by a few beats. She followed suit, instantly spotting what had attracted his attention.

“We’re only halfway through.”

His tongue lolled as he panted at her, clearly not understanding her point.

“...Fine.”

She slowed to a walk, letting her partner outpace her a few steps. The artist, having only just put her bag down, happily greeted the dog with a scratch behind the ear.

“You didn’t have to stop for me,” she said with a smile.

Was she ever not smiling?

“He insisted.” It had been two weeks since the last time they had seen her, and the dog was pleased to see his partially adopted human.

The artist laughed, scratching Ichigo with fervor. His tail thumped against the ground heavily, and his excitement was rewarded with a peanut butter treat. She had half a mind to protest the treat, but it was only one, and she wasn’t sure _she_ could say “no” to the artist herself.

She sighed, but sat next to the still nameless woman and examined the current work. The art seemed to change every day, as did the medium. Today, it was charcoal. She rather enjoyed watching the artist at work. Observing every stroke of her brush, pencil, or hand was far more therapeutic than anger management sessions, the memory of those alone inciting leftover irritation.

They _had_ helped improve her behavior, at least. If only because she was determined to avoid a repeat of the punishment.

A small mug was held out to her.

“Uh, thanks.”

She held it close to her face, the scent of hot chocolate wafting from the small opening. It was with caution that she took a small sip, unsure of the temperature. It was hot, but not unbearably so, warming her throat and stomach when she took a full drink.

Ichigo dozed off with his head resting on the artist’s leg, content with his simple life after gulping down his treat.

She continued to sip from her mug with a hint of the same content, savoring the smooth drink while she watched the woman work. The hot chocolate kept her warm as the sun continued its rise. The urge to question the artist on her whereabouts the last two weeks rose, but it came and went before she could fully recognize it.

Their chats every morning were vague and superficial. Names were never exchanged, neither mentioned what they did for work, or if they even worked, and personal facts came as small, unimportant tidbits in the natural flow of conversation.

The artist was older than her by a year, she preferred charcoal and paint, had a younger sister, and enjoyed spoiling Ichigo.

That was all she knew, and all she _needed_ to know.

“Ah, I can’t feel my leg.”

“.....Just move him then!”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

“Yuuuuuukaaaaaaariiiiiiiiii!”

There was a crash as her attacker tripped over the restaurant chairs after being dodged. She didn’t give the groaning woman, or the other startled customers, a second glance.

“Jun, stop laying on the ground. Hello Yukari.”

“Hi, Yuuho. You look well.” She waved her partner, who was sniffing at Jun, back. “Leave it alone Ichigo, you’ll get a disease.”

“Hey.”

“Ayana.”

She internally sighed at the awkwardness that settled over them. Even years after the fact, their friendship had never quite recovered from the university confession that had led to nearly a year of silence between them. While they had mostly gotten over all that nonsense, there were still the times where the memories of that time cropped up without warning.

It would have never worked out anyway, as while she most certainly did not love her friend that way, Ayana too had been easily swayed by Jun’s damned influence.

Ayana’s role in the incident was forgivable; Jun’s was  _ not _ .

“How have you been?” Yuuho, ever amazing, led the conversation as always.

“Fine. We were on nights for a while. We moved to swing shifts not too long ago, and I’m still getting used to it.”

“So that’s why you could only meet for breakfast.”

She nodded, not bothering to bring up the hardships associated with her shift rotation. The twelve hour days, 12pm-12am, a four hour extension of her previous shift, wore her out just as much as people had promised it would. The rotation had been last minute, in response to one of the other K-9 officers quitting after losing both her human and animal partner in a call gone horribly wrong, just after another K-9 officer had retired. She hadn’t been given more than a week’s notice, and wasn’t told how long she would be covering the shift.

In theory, that would have forced her to move her morning jog to a later time long after the sun had risen, but sleep was rarely ever a good friend of hers, and she usually only got around five or six hours of it. Those early morning jogs instead remained as the one constant outside of work to ground her.

That’s what she told her mother, anyway, after bringing up the many broken vases and pictures of her childhood; the combined result of an active child and lack of space.

“And how are you doing? You look good,” she said to Yuuho, pushing her menu aside. She already knew what she wanted.

“Ah, we had a small scare some months ago, but it was just a bad flu. The doctors said it had been going around, and that my health was holding strong.”

“Yeah, we were all frantic about it, but then the old lady caught the bug and was out for a week. She was so paranoid about infecting Yuuho that she shut herself in her room. Ran the maids ragged. I think we lost one, even.” Jun was far too satisfied as she shared the information, and she figured that the pervert had been all too happy to be spared from the Shizuma matriarch’s spite.

“It was the most peaceful week of my life,” Yuuho added with an unashamed smile.

Yuuho, who’d been sickly as a child, was one of the strongest people she knew. She had gone through a lot before they’d all met in university, by then having undergone a risky, but successful, operation that sent her disease into remission. Aside from that, there were a whole host of family problems in the Shizuma household that would have driven anyone insane, but Yuuho dealt with them all handedly.

“My turn to share!”

“Not interested.”

“You know, sometimes I get the feeling that you don’t like me.”

“ _ Only  _ sometimes?”

“You can’t be mad forever, Yukari.”

Yuuho rolled her eyes at the interaction, then turned to Ayana. “What about you?”

“Video games.” Jun and Yukari both intoned flatly.

“Tch. Whatever.”

When she finally walked back home an hour later, she was glad to be alone. It was nice to catch up with friends, but she was sorely out of practice in dealing with social interactions. Ichigo, having endured the humans -who hadn’t even given him a snack- solely for his handler, padded over to his bed and stretched out with a yawn.

“Better take your nap now. We have a few hours to kill before we go in.”

**~X~**

“Hot chocolate…”

“Hmm?” The artist paused in her struggle to untangle her easel from Ichigo’s leash.

“You must really like hot chocolate, drinking it everyday like this.” That wasn’t to say she had a problem with it. It was honestly the best tasting drink she had every morning, though that was a less than impressive declaration when she tended to otherwise live on the terrible precinct coffee.

The artist gave her what she had determined was her signature sheepish smile. “I used to drink coffee, actually. Three or four cups a day. But, uh, I accidently won a ten year supply of hot chocolate when I went grocery shopping. It really did start to pile up after a few months. I  _ had  _ to start drinking it, though I give a lot of it away. My sister is more than happy to take them, to my mother’s chagrin.”

“.......Why am I somehow not surprised it was something like that? Only you…”

“Ahaha. Haaaaaa. ...Do you want some boxes?”

“No thank you.”

**~X~**

“...What’s this?”

“A prize.”

She stared at the chief blankly.

“For not making anyone cry in a month. Keep up the good work.”

Snickers from the officers walking past were ignored. From the look of annoyance on some faces, and the giant smirk on Kataoka’s face, she suspected that an office-wide wager of some sort had been made. With a shrug, she decided to just accept the hamburger and fries. She was hungry anyway.

And if none of them knew how she’d made some rookie cry last week, well,  _ she  _ wasn’t going to tell them. 

**~X~**

Tactical boots and claws hitting the pavement were the only sounds of life in the residential neighborhood. It was late night, early morning, whatever adage people preferred. The glow of the city was somewhere far behind her, only the stars and streetlights lighting her way here in the suburbs. She walked without direction, only needing to  _ move  _ and somehow escape the horrors of the day. Her recent transfer to a shorter, eight hour shift left her with more hours in the day than she was now used to, which meant more free time to think.

Days like today, that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

Her stomach twisted, and she tried again to push her memories of the day out of her mind. Even Ichigo was visibly disheartened, his ears and tail lowered while he walked. They hadn’t been home yet, instead parking in her apartment complex lot and then taking off in an a random direction.

They’d been brought in with several others at dawn to search for a missing child. It had taken nearly all morning, but they’d finally caught a lead after several hours, one that had taken them straight to a dead child. Breaking the news to the parents had been the worst, their cries piercing the already somber atmosphere.

After that, they dragged themselves with a heavy heart to their regular shift, which had involved two emergency calls. The first resulted in a foot chase that had ended quickly and with plenty of cursing, and the second had been a bust, causing many to scowl at her poor partner. She’d glared right back at the idiots who expected a miracle from Ichigo, as if it was his fault the crime scene had too many conflicting scents. Needless to say, the two had ended their day in low spirits.

A hand grabbed her arm, causing her to jump and immediately attempt to twist her assailant's limb. The maneuver was easily dodged, and her shoulders were gripped firmly.

“Hey.”

_ Oh _ . She knew that voice. Her heart rate slowed, her adrenaline dropped, and the exhaustion she had ignored settled into her muscles.

Familiar brown eyes scanned the officer, taking in the sloppily worn uniform, weary set of her shoulders, and empty eyes that met her own. Next to her, Ichigo wagged his tail despondently, sniffing the newcomer without any of his usual energy.

“Come on.”

She was turned around and gently pushed along through the neighborhood by a hand at the small of her back. She offered no resistance, drifting close enough to the other woman to almost be considered leaning into her. It was strange, she thought, that the smell of hot chocolate and paint had become comforting to her.

Sooner than she expected, the two late night wanderers were ushered into a well sized, single story house. Soft carpets, simple but tasteful furniture, a small tv system, and paintings on every wall greeted her.

Ichigo sniffed at the air curiously, taking interest in the new place. Putting his urge to explore aside, he reluctantly followed Yukari to the couch she was ushered to, and nudged her hand with his nose. Not getting his desired pet -she was far too tired to move at the moment-, he rested his head on her leg. The two absently watched the artist move around the kitchen, pulling out mugs, milk, some packets of what she suspected were hot chocolate, and a kettle.

Their host disappeared for a minute, reappearing with a thick blanket and giant bone in hand. 

Ichigo perked up, ears alert and eyes fixed on the spotted treat. Gingerly taking it from her hand, he settled at his handler’s feet and happily gnawed on the bone.

The plush blanket was unfolded and thrown over the officer, whose protest died when it finally hit her how  _ cold  _ she was. She clutched at the blanket before guiltily realizing that her boots were still on. That was quickly, and clumsily, taken care of, her frozen fingers not fully cooperating. It was well into the spring season, but their city was far enough north that it was still chilly at nights.

She preoccupied herself with trying to generate body heat, the hum of the heating unit being added to the kitchen noises and Ichigo’s occupation with his bone. She was shivering so hard it hurt by the time the artist made her way to the couch with a cup of hot chocolate in hand. The mug had a coffee lid on it, ridding her of the worry of spilling liquid everywhere.

The heat burned her hands, but she held it tightly anyway. It was a good thing too, for her host startled her by pulling part of the blanket away and sitting next to her. She attempted to question the action through her chattering teeth, her words coming out chopped and quiet. In spite of her embarrassment, she didn’t pull away when an arm was wrapped around her waist to pull her closer to the taller woman.

Here she was, cuddled up next to a virtual stranger, in said stranger’s house, her generally untrusting police canine contently seated at their feet. There were a million things wrong with this situation, and a million things wrong with  _ her  _ for not only allowing it, but all too easily drowning her unease with hot chocolate and the warmth the artist provided. Months of chatting in the park kind of made them acquaintances anyway, probably.

Why had the woman been out so late, where she had been for the last week, and why she was so willing to help her? The questions she desired to ask were lost in a wave of exhaustion as her eyes slipped shut of their own accord.

She had no memory of her cup being pulled from her increasingly lack grip, of being carried to the guest room, or of being stripped of her utility belt and jacket, but she woke up mid-morning feeling well-rested and relaxed. It was difficult to convince herself to leave the nest of blankets, their softness and smell tempting her to resume her slumber. 

Once she had managed to crawl out of bed, she found her partner comfortably spread out on the couch, head and front paws resting on their host’s lap as a fencing tournament played on the television. With his head being scratched absently, he barely twitched at her entrance, offering only a quick glance and a wag of his tail.

When they finally left, it was with yet another cup of hot chocolate and a name; Kamijou Maki.

She looked down at Ichigo, who bounced along with bone firmly in his mouth. “You let her spoil you too much.”

He stared up at her and wagged his tail.

She smiled. “No, I don’t suppose I’m any better.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

“You use a lot of grey in your skies.”

The paintbrush slowed, then stopped all together. “Do I?” Maki asked, voice low and distant.

Had she said something wrong? It had just been a simple observation, and yet Maki’s entire demeanor had drooped.

“What color would  _ you  _ use, officer-san?”

“Yukari is fine.” 

...She had  _ not  _ meant to say that.

“Ah. As you wish, Yukari-san,” the artist affirmed before she could take it back.

Oh, well. She’d spent the night at the woman’s house; using her given name was hardly less personal than  _ that _ . And it was nice to not be Officer Someya for a time. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder what had come over her.

Staring at the painting, she tried to remember if she’d ever had a preference for the color of the sky, back when she was in art club. “A darker blue, I guess. I never really payed attention to it.” Taking another sip of the hot chocolate Maki had provided, she added, “I kind of like the grey, though. Some navy would be nice with it, too. Maybe.”

“...You like the nighttime, don’t you?”

“Not really? Though, there’s less people to deal with at night. I definitely prefer that...why are you laughing?”

“Ahahaha. It sounds very much like you, that’s all.”

With a huff, she continued drinking in silence. When Maki introduced a darker blue to her painting, she had to wonder if the artist was teasing her, but the content smile on the other woman’s face laid to rest that suspicion.

That was, until Maki caught her gaze and winked at her.

**~X~**

“You’ve been a lot calmer lately, Yukari.”

She paused mid-drink. Calmer, huh? Well, she hadn’t made any rookies cry in a while, if that’s what they meant. She finally felt like she had a good handle on her schedule and the run of the mill stressors that came with being a K-9 officer. There were bad days, as it was for any officer, but, well, she had ways of dealing with that too.

“Did you get a new boyfriend?”

Her shake was placed on the table with more force than was strictly necessary. “No.”

“Good,” her father said just as forcefully. When she was ten, Keiji had informed her that no man would be good enough for her. Fifteen years later, and he still held strong to that opinion.

“Keiji,” Tomomi huffed at the detective. “I just thought it would be something like that, since it’s unlike you to wear jewelry.”

Yukari glanced at her wrist where the piece of jewelry in question, a simple bracelet, shined at her. A dog shaped navy charm hung from it.

_ “I saw it while I was out in Tokyo, and it reminded me of you. Ichigo gets one too!” _

“Ah, no. It was from a friend.”

“Uhuh.”

Something about her mother’s tone made it hard to meet her gaze.

“What’s your  _ friend’s  _ name?” Keiji crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Is he someone I should worry about?”

“ _No_ dad, _she_ isn’t.” Her emphasis on “she” made her father relax, though not fully. He was probably remembering the time she was hit on by an officer from his precinct; a _female_ officer. He had laughed himself sick at the time, only weeks later catching her off guard by randomly informing her that no man _or_ woman would be spared if they hurt her.

“Oh, was it Ayana?”

She snorted. “ _ Definitely not.  _ It’s just a bracelet, mom.” The only jewelry Ayana knew existed belonged in the accessory slots of her stupid RPGs.

“But you never talk about your friends either. I was afraid you didn’t have any.”

She wanted to protest, or scoff, or both, but the clearly worried look her mother wore turned her next word into a sigh. “She’s an artist we met in the park. She fences for sport, and her family owns a couple of sports shops in the next town over. We see her every day, unless she’s traveling or we can’t make it.”

“I see, I see. Well, I’m glad you talk to  _ someone _ . Night and swing shifts really do wear you out, and K-9 units are always rushing out to their calls.” Tomomi frowned, likely recalling her own long hours when she was a K-9 officer.

“So,  _ every  _ day?”

Leave it to her father to focus on that bit of information. Not that her mother wouldn’t have noticed; she just would have waited until Yukari’s guard was down to get the answer.

“How long has this been going on?” 

Wonderful. Now they were in interrogation mode.

Resigned, she rested her chin in her palm and tried to put together a mental timeline. How long  _ had  _ it been now? It felt like Maki had just...appeared one day. “Ah. Just after...Hitoshi.” That had been over five months ago, now that she thought about it. 

Both her parents sneered at the mention of the officer she had justifiably knocked out after he beat his canine. That had been the incident that earned her mandatory anger management sessions, though only because Hitoshi’s councilman father hadn’t thought a three day suspension was enough punishment.

Tomomi leaned over the edge of the table and addressed the dozing police dog. “What about you, Ichigo? What is  _ your  _ opinion on this artist?”

He opened an eye, ears twitching forward.

“He likes her.”

“Does the artist have a name?”

She rolled her eyes. They were so persistent sometimes. “Maki. Her name is Kamijou Maki.”

_ That  _ caught the dog’s attention. He lifted his head, tail brushing the ground as it wagged side to side.

“I guess that answers my question,” her mother murmured.

Ichigo barked, the bone shaped charm attached to his collar glinting at the former officer.

**~X~**

The officer sat on their bench, head back so she could stare at the sky. Ichigo was next to her, ears down and tail limp. It had been a long, long day. She wasn’t sure how many hours she’d been awake now, but she knew that if she tried to sleep, nightmares would be all that greeted her.

A black coffee tumbler invaded her vision.

“...You know,” she started duly, “you can’t fix every problem in the world with hot chocolate.”

Maki hummed. “I don’t want to fix the  _ world’s  _ problems, Yukari-san. Just yours.”

She snatched the tumbler and took a long drink of the hot chocolate. It was a little hot, but that was okay. She could blame the strange heat in her chest on the drink, not the words delivered with a gentle smile.

**~X~**

“Hopeless. Completely hopeless. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Ichigo tilted his head in confusion as his handler dropped her head into her arms. Her mother watched in tolerant silence, eating her meal as her daughter, for all intents and purposes,  _ whined _ . There had been no protest on her part when Yukari had asked to have lunch at the shopping center, but this was probably a little beyond what her mother was expecting.

“So what is it exactly that you’re trying to do?” Tomomi asked after she had finished.

“Maki’s birthday is next week.”

“I...see. You have no idea what to get her, do you?”

She scowled at her mother’s smothered laughter.

“Just start with the basics. What does she like?”

“Fencing and art,” she answered tonelessly. “But my fencing knowledge is pretty limited, and she has all the art stuff she wants or needs.”

“Okay… What else?”

She blinked. What  _ else _ ? Maki liked… Liked. “Hot chocolate. Spoiling people. Brooding when she thinks I’m not watching.”

Tomomi rubbed the bridge of her nose. “You’re worse than your father,” she sighed. “How about we just take a look around the shops for now, okay?”

They paid for their meal and started off in a random direction. “I’m sure she would be happy with anything. She’s just that sort of person. It makes everything so  _ difficult _ .” She crossed her arms, thoroughly annoyed at the whole thing. True, she didn’t  _ need  _ to get Maki a present, but it just felt wrong not to.

“....What about you Ichigo? Do you have any suggestions?”

The dog trotted along.

“Very funny, mom.”

“We’re desperate, remember?”

“Well then, Ichigo.”

He looked up at her.

“Find Maki a present.” They watched as he tilted his head, then sniffed the air. “Now, can we be serious about th-” She was interrupted by her partner abruptly stopping and bolting off into the crowd.

“Hey!”

The two ran after him. “It was a joke! I didn’t think he would actually find something.”

“He’s not supposed to run off like that! He’s trained better!”

Ichigo hadn’t run far, but when they caught up to him, Yukari wanted to turn right back around and pretend she had lost him. Now she knew why he had run. She’d given him an order of sorts, and he had obeyed. Just. What he could understand of it.

Then again, Ichigo never needed an order to encourage him to run to the artist.

“Yukari-san!”

“Ah. Maki-san.”

“Oh dear,” she heard her mother laugh.

The artist wasn’t alone. She was with a young girl and another older woman, the family resemblance so strong among them all that she immediately labeled them as the sister and mother she had heard mentioned before. The sister, Minami, if she remembered correctly, was practically shining with the sudden appearance of her furry partner.

Her partner who was...jumping all over Maki. 

“Ichigo! Calm down.”

He dropped down and sat, giving her the bark of “objective complete.” 

The traitor.

“Can I pet him?” The youngest Kamijou was polite, giving her the same wide smile her sister did when excited.

“Go ahead. He won’t bite.”

Ichigo was promptly given a good scratching, a reward he accepted as his due for finding the artist. He was used to being around children thanks to their occasional visits to elementary schools, and he could play up “cute and cuddly” with the best of them.

“What brings you here?” Maki asked as she casually pulled a dog treat out of her purse. Did she carry those with her  _ all _ the time?!

“We were just. Uh.” Strange. When had she become the sort of person who stuttered?

“Eating out on her rare weekend off!” her mother interrupted, laying a hand Yukari’s shoulder.

She had never felt more grateful for her mother than she did right now.

“Oh! Introductions.”

Hours later, spread out on her couch, she acknowledged that the day had been a complete bust as far as obtaining a present went. Her mother, at least, had enjoyed talking with the Kamijou matriarch, Azusa. Ichigo had let himself be led around by Minami, just as Yukari had let herself be pulled around by Maki.

A furry snout poked at her cheek.

“Real pleased with yourself, aren’t you? Finding her like that.”

He licked her face, body wriggling with contained excitement. The youngest Kamijou had happily pulled Ichigo around, but he still had plenty of energy left.

She smiled, thinking about the newest entry in her phone’s contact list.

“It was a good day, so you're forgiven this time.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Dealing with terrified people was always a difficult thing; dealing with terrified  _ children  _ was even harder. It was one of her job duties she was proud of, yet also dreaded the most. Today had been especially bad. Her and Ichigo had spent hours sitting with two children taken out of an abusive home, while the third, and oldest, was rushed to the hospital. The youngest had cried into her arms, which was heartbreaking enough, but the middle girl, she had simply clutched Ichigo without a word or any tears.

Maki already had her usual cup of hot chocolate out and ready for her when they made it to the bench. She must have sensed that it had been one of  _ those _ days, as she wrapped an arm around her waist the moment she sat down. Yukari didn’t hesitate to rest her head on her shoulder while the artist ignored her easel and worked instead on the sketchpad that she rested on their legs.

Ichigo settled himself at their feet, his normal spot when he wasn’t trying to jump on the bench with them, and yawned loudly.

Yukari had never been a particularly touchy person, keeping contact to a minimum even with her friends and family. Her previous boyfriends had all complained about it, in fact, not that she had ever really cared what they wanted. The first time Maki had attempted a comforting hug, she had earned herself a glare. The suspicious look hadn’t diverted Maki from achieving her goal, even if it was awkward for both of them. The officer was terrible at accepting physical reassurance, and the artist was nervous throughout the ordeal.

Of course, even that didn’t stop Maki from attempting to hug her again, and after several attempts they had overcome most of the awkwardness. Besides, it was nice to be hugged, every once in awhile.

An hour later, maybe two, she wasn’t sure, Maki closed her sketchbook, pulled her up, and said “Let’s get some breakfast.”

It was in the comfort of the artist’s house, curled up under a thin blanket and arms wrapped around a throw pillow, that she found herself talking about her day. About all the other days. About the frustrations and tears and anger and pride. Everything she never shared; not with her friends, not with her fellow officers,  _ definitely  _ not with the therapist, not even her parents. It was an emotional and mental release that was a long time in coming, or so the therapist had claimed several times. Whatever the case, she felt lighter, freer, when she was done.

“Even with all that, do you still think it’s worth it?”

“...Of course.”

“That’s what makes you a hero.”

**~X~**

**Me: We’re caught up in a case. We won’t be out for another hour.**

**Maki: When did you last eat?**

**Me: ...Before our shift, I think.**

**Maki: I’ll make some breakfast.**

“Got a new boyfriend, Someya?”

She scrambled to catch her phone as Takaoka threw an arm around her shoulder. The phone was saved from meeting the floor, but not from being stolen by the officer who had startled her.

“Oh,” he said, taking a look at the picture, “ _ girlfriend  _ then. My bad.”

“Give me that!” She swiped it back from him with a glare. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Is she cute?” Tanuki asked from across the room.

“No, she’s  _ hot _ . Someya has good taste.”

“Better taste than you morons. Get back to work!” the chief snarled as he walked by. “And don’t forget your paperwork, Someya.”

“Yes, sir.”

**~X~**

“Yukari! I’m sorry we’re late.”

“Whoa, nice bruise.”

“Did something happen at work?”

Sighing, she motioned for them to sit. “Don’t worry about it, Yuuho. I’m sure it was  _ their  _ fault, anyway,” she said.

She’d meant it as a joke, but the way both Ayana and Jun looked away told her that it most certainly  _ was  _ their fault they were late. That was no surprise. Those two were always a pain to control when they were together -mostly because of Jun-, and there had been plenty of times in the past where they had arrived extremely late or missed something entirely due to their antics.

“Soooo, the bruise?” Jun asked, ignoring Yukari’s blatant avoidance of the topic.

“Did something happen on patrol?” Ayana added, alarm and concern written on her face.

She had half a mind to tell her them that a single bruise was the last thing she was concerned about while on patrol, but decided that making them worry would be too annoying in the long run to be worth it.

“No. This was from training,” she said, wincing in remembered pain. “Sort of…”

All three of her friends sent her confused looks, but she hesitated to elaborate. It was a little embarrassing, the story. Maki had volunteered to help her with training after work, claiming that it would help her with her own training. She didn’t quite understand how helping her brush up on her self-defense skills would translate into fencing training, but as eager as Maki had been, “no” was not something she once considered saying.

Sadly, Yukari had done the worst thing possible; forgotten that Maki trained for fencing six hours a day, four days a week. Maki was  _ strong _ , even if she rarely showed it.

“Gotta stay in shape so you can chase after criminals, huh?” Jun grins. “Though it looks like you got more of a beating than anything.”

She glared. “My sparring partner...surprised me. It was nothing major.”

“Huh. It’s been a long time since you sparred with any of us, hasn’t it?”

Yukari, Jun, and Ayana all went into deep thought at Yuuho’s comment. All of them had some experience at swordplay, from their younger days. It was what brought them together, years and years ago.

“Well, we all have our own lives now. It’s not like we can just hop over to a gym and spar anymore.” Ayana shrugged and played with her fork, deep in thought. “That’s just how things are now.”

“....Huh.”

“Wow.”

“That. That’s so mature of you Ayana. I’m shocked.”

“SHUT THE HELL UP.”

She rolled her eyes as Jun and Ayana started to argue, the ninja poking at her with a wide grin and cooing noises. Yuuho quickly grabbed her water so that it wouldn’t get knocked over from their antics, and shared a wry smile with Yukari.

“So how  _ have  _ things been at work?” Yuuho questioned after scolding the two idiots into silence.

“As well as can be expected. We’ve had some really rough cases lately, but that’s just something that comes with the job.”

“Ooooh. Any you can tell us about?” Jun is suddenly completely interested. She was always willing to listen to Yukari’s work stories, and was generally far less disturbed by the darker cases than Ayana and Yuuho were.

“Not many that I want to talk about over food, but we did have some moron who-”

Time passed quickly, with them sharing stories of all that had happened since the last time they met up, which ended with them making themselves sick on dessert and Yuuho and Jun opening their birthday presents. It was the most fun they had all had together for some time and when she finally picked up Ichigo from Maki’s house -Minami was visiting and Maki had asked to borrow her partner while she was away-, it was with a smile and good mood.

It had been just like old times, and she hadn’t realized how much she had missed it until then.

**~X~**

“More fencing?”

“Mmm. This is an old competition. This one was fun.”

Yukari, curled up under a green fluffy blanket and sipping on her hot chocolate -between the amount of hot chocolate and awful work coffee she consumed, her health would probably do her in before a criminal did-, watching the fencers with a critical eye. Even after bearing witness to a number of training sessions with Maki and her mother, she had yet to really understand the exact rules of official fencing matches.

“How long have you been competing?”

The artist shrugged. “Since I graduated high school. Professionally, anyway. I went to a few competitions during my high school years, but only local ones. During college, I competed in as many national and international competitions as I could. It was a lot of work and travel, but very fun.”

“International competitions? How many have you been to?” That sounded awfully serious for someone who fenced for  _ sport _ .

“Hmm. As a spectator or competitor? I’m not sure. I’ve been to over a dozen countries, though. Barcelona is my favorite. It’s beautiful there. I’ve gone to Europe several times, though it’s usually raining when we go. The food always makes me sick in France...which is funny, as I lived in France for almost two years, though mostly for art. Russia and Belgium were okay, but I enjoyed Mexico more. The tournament I went to was near the beach, and I took some time after the tournament to take a tour to the pyramids further into the country. I don’t think I’ve ever been so hot in my life, except for when I went to Egypt. I almost ended up dropping out of the competition in Cairo, due to heatstroke. I’ve also been to New York a handful of times, though I never did make it to the Statue of Liberty.”

She was impressed, and awed. She had always wanted to travel out of the country, but never gave it serious thought. That sort of thing was too expensive, and now she had Ichigo to worry about. “All those places… That’s amazing.”

Maki blushed. “I suppose. I have pictures if you want to see. Mostly of the scenery,” she said with a sheepish smile.

Her interest must have shown on her face, because the woman quickly stood up and left with a “I’ll be right back.”

Ichigo watched her go from the pet bed Maki had bought a month ago, reasoning that he should be comfortable too, with all the time they were now spending at her house.

It was the day she had realized just how seamlessly the artist had inserted herself into their lives, although maybe it was the other way around. Whatever the case, officer and dog hardly ever did more than sleep at home. She used to read or workout in her off hours until she had acquired Ichigo, after which she would take him out so they could exercise or play in the park. Now, they could be found at Maki’s more often than not, resting after a long shift and some play time in the park. Maki was always free in the mornings, generally leaving when they did, around noon.

Her attention was diverted back to the competition video when one of the announcers mentioned a familiar name.

_ “...and three time world champion. That is quite a name to live up to, but I do not think I am alone in saying that this Kamijou fully does.” _

_ “That goes without saying. Kamijou Maki has racked up an impressive amount of medals in these international events, including bronze and silver medals from the last summer olympics, which was also her first olympic appearance, by the way. She is currently the highest ranked female Japanese fencer. Her collection will rival her mother’s in no time, at this rate. There hasn’t been a gold win, yet, but I will tell you, each one was lost by the barest of margins.” _

_ “Which makes it all the more painful, really.” _

_ “‘To be sure! But Kamijou is known for her heartfelt congratulations to the winners. You just have to admire the sportsmanship and poise that the young woman shows after her matches, win or lose.” _

_ “Indeed. Holding a three year winning streak in the Japanese Nationals, it’s no surprise that she is easily making her way to the quarterfinals of this competition.” _

...Was there possibly another Kamijou Maki that fenced in Japan? She somehow doubted it, and yet.

“Found them! I forgot that I put some of my older drawings on top of the box.”

“...Maki-san...you’re the top woman fencer in Japan?”

The artist dropped back onto the couch, albums in hand. “Hm? Then, yeah. I’ve only competed in two official tournaments this year, though, so I’ve gone down in rankings quite a bit.”

“...When you said you fence for sport, this isn’t exactly what I had imagined.” 

No, it wasn’t at all. It was hard to reconcile the image of Champion Fencer with her goofy hot chocolate drinking artist. She knew Maki was strong, had witnessed her skills during her training bouts with her mother, yet never had she thought to learn how well Maki did in competitions. Mostly because the fencer herself didn’t seem to care.

“My mother taught me to enjoy fencing. It’s something we do for fun. I love it as much as I love art. Ha. I was never able to pick one so I ended up doing both, even though they conflict sometimes. I guess I’m too indecisive.”

Somehow, that simple explanation was just so... _ Maki  _ that she had no trouble accepting it without further thought. “I don’t think it’s indecisive. You love two things, so you do both.” 

Maki’s lips twitched in an attempt to smile. “My ex-girlfriend would disagree with you.”

She blinked, barely managing to take note of the panic that settled in the artist’s eyes, the woman stiffening in alarm and...fear? There must have been more history behind the topic than a simple disagreement for it to affect Maki so much. 

Or, wait, had she said girlfriend? 

That...that was...unimportant, really. Was Maki afraid of her reaction? Hmph. That idiot. As if it would change anything.

But...ex-girlfriend?

No. No. It changed nothing at all.

“You’re better off without her, then.” Scooting herself next to the artist, she asked, “So which trip is this?”

She sensed something  _ loosen  _ in Maki as she went on to talk about the various countries she had been to, and the (sometimes drastic) measures she went to in order to get some of these pictures. Most of them were, as promised, scenic views, but a handful included members of her various teams, her parents, and Minami. When the aforementioned ex-girlfriend, a very beautiful, very in shape, french woman, was pointed out, a strange feeling settled in her stomach. Before Maki could get another word in, she roughly flipped the page, trying to keep herself from glaring at the photo album.

Had Maki bothered to question her, she would have told her that there was no need to dwell on unpleasant things, specifically things like a pretty brunette with a toothpaste-commercial-worthy smile that concealed a shallow personality.

And it would have been the truth. Not the  _ whole  _ truth, just the part she was willing to admit out loud, or even to herself.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

_ “No, NO! Stay with me. Come on. Officer down! Hold on. Just hold on.” _

Her room was dark, daylight struggling to shine through the edges of her blackout curtains. She’d been home for hours, and should have been asleep a while ago. And yet instead she was sitting on her couch, arms wrapped around her legs, and head on her knees. How could she sleep when she couldn’t get the image of the officer that had been shot, eyes pleading with her to somehow save him as he bled out, life draining from his eyes while they waited for the ambulance?

Dying on the job was a risk all officers lived with. It was a fear she had experienced on both sides of the fence; as an officer, and as a daughter of one. There had been countless times where she had seen the worry creep into her mother’s voice when her father was late, or the occasional hesitation when the phone rang while he was out. She’d had half a dozen near misses herself.

Knowing the risks and experiencing them, though, those were two different things.

_ “Take care of them. Please.” _

Before she was fully aware of her actions, her phone was in her hand and a number dialed.

“ _ Hello? _ ”

She heard a yawn, and felt vaguely guilty for calling, but it was lost in the relief at hearing  _ her _ voice.

“ _ Yukari-san? Hello? ...Yukari? _ ”

“...Sorry. I.” Was that weak voice really hers?

The other end of the line was quiet, and she wondered if the artist had fallen asleep again. The family had gone on vacation overseas, and it was likely well into the night wherever they were. She never should have called, even if she hadn’t meant to.

“ _ We all went to the zoo today. We haven’t been to one since Minami was little. It was fun, although I did get run over by a balloon cart. I  _ think  _ the man was apologizing, but the language barrier... _ ”

She listened to Maki go on about the day, her quiet, hushed tone leading her to think that the family was sharing a hotel room. At some point, she fell asleep, exhaustion finally catching up with her. When she woke from her dreamless sleep, it was with a stiff neck and a single message on her phone.

**Goodnight, Yukari.**

**~X~**

“So, any men you want to talk about?”

“Ugh, mom.” She glared over her smoothie, willing her mother to drop the subject. The two had gone out for lunch for her birthday, this being the first time in years that she had been free on the actual date. Her father was at work, but he promised to bring home cake and ice cream for dinner.

“What? It’s been some time since Daisuke. Almost a year. Well, nine months.”

“Has it?” she drawled, not an ounce of interest in her voice.

“Yukari…”

“It’s my birthday, mom. Can we talk about  _ pleasant  _ things?”

Tomomi sighed and shrugged. “Alright, alright. You can’t blame me for trying.”

She could, actually, if she were feeling more petulant, but she was too full from lunch to muster the energy for that.

“How is Maki doing?” Tomomi asked, with a suggestive undertone she didn’t understand.

“Um, fine. She’s in Tokyo for a competition. Apparently it’s an important one, part of the...Grand Prix, I think. From what I gathered from her rant, it’s rare to have that sort of competition in Tokyo. She’s been training like crazy. There were some art show after that she wanted to attend, so she won’t be back until next week. She was upset that she’s missing my birthday, and Minami has been sending me pictures nonstop to make it up for it...” As if to illustrate her point, her phone beeped several times in row.

“Ah, yes. I remember Azusa-san mentioning something about that.”

“....You talk to Kamijou-san?” She couldn’t recall her mother ever once mentioning being friends with the artist’s mother. Granted, they had gotten along rather well that one day at the shopping center, but wouldn’t her mother have  _ told  _ her about it?

“Oh, now and then. We meet up for lunch occasionally.”

Apparently not.

“So how has work been?” Her mother easily changed the topic again, scratching Ichigo’s head as he made himself comfortable next to her.

Confused, and mildly suspicious, she let it slide. “As well as can be expected.”

“I was worried about how you would handle the...incident.”

She looked away, frowning at the reminder. It had only been two weeks since Hanada had been killed, and her fellow officers still gave her pitying looks. She had nightmares about it every few nights, but that was hardly anything new by now. “It’s,” she faltered, knowing that her mother would never believe her if she said she was fine. “I’m handling it. I promise.”

“I’m glad you have your artist to help you through it.”

The officer was too lost in the memory of a calming voice go on about her day at the zoo when she needed the distraction the most to notice her mother’s choice of phrasing.

“Yeah…”

**~X~**

“Happy late birthday!”

“...You didn’t have to get me anything, you know.”

The artist pouted. “I wanted to. Ichigo gets a present too!”

The dog perked up at hearing his name, and Maki, finding a captive audience in the canine, was more than happy to pull out a plush dog toy that not only looked like him, but sported a police vest and hat. Ichigo sniffed at it before gingerly taking it with his mouth and carrying it to his bed, where he continued to play with it.

Rolling her eyes and smiling, because it was undeniably adorable, she opened her own present.

“It’s…”

“Our park.”

Their park. Yes, it certainly was, painted in familiar strokes. It was early fall in the painting, the leaves of the shadowed trees a mix of orange and green, some blowing in the invisible wind. The sky was colored pink and yellow, with a touch of grey on the “western” side, and wispy clouds hanging high. There were no people, other than an indistinct painter, a jogger, and a dog. The few details of the people were too familiar to mistake their inspiration.

She was sure she said “thank you”, but was too taken in by the re-creation of her favorite place to notice if she had.

“Now let’s spar! I want to try something out!”

“Oh...sure. ...Wait, what?!”

**~X~**

“Whoa, what train did you run into, Someya?”

“Go away, Tanuki.”

“Damn Someya, who’d you pick a fight with?”

“I didn’t pick a fight with  _ anyone _ .”

“Did your girlfriend beat you up? ‘Cause, we can take care of that for you.”

“We had a  _ spar _ , okay. Which was probably a stupid idea, since she’s a world class fencer. ...Not that it was my idea in the first place. ...And she’s  _ not _ my girlfriend!”

She ignored the rolling eyes and disbelieving snorts in favor of dropping herself onto her desk, wincing when her body protested, and _gently_ laying her head down. Everything hurt. She hadn’t had a workout this rough since the academy, though at least her stamina hadn’t suffered nearly as much as her sword skills had. Facing Maki, it had been so glaringly obvious that her reflexes and speed were lacking. She knew the fencer was strong, and had seen her speed in person and on the various recordings of her old tournaments, but it was totally different _facing_ that ability herself.

Next time,  _ next time,  _ she would get a hit in. No matter what.

And maybe next time, she would be a little less distracted by the graceful figure Maki cut with a sword in hand.

**~X~**

“We’re here! C’mon Ichigo! The ocean!”

“Ah, wait. Don’t go too! ...Far.”

“Oh, it’ll be fine. It won’t take us long to unload.”

Yukari shrugged and decided to let Minami run off. Her partner would protect her from any trouble, and he was easy enough to spot from a distance on the beach.

“She starts school soon, doesn’t she?” she asked, trying to remember if schools still started in September.

“Yup! We didn’t get to go to the beach when we went on vacation, so she’s excited.” Maki pulled out their cooler and umbrella, leaving the towels, blankets, and chairs to the officer.

“I noticed.”

Minami had been bouncing in her seat during the entire car ride, telling Ichigo about how much fun she had planned for him. The whole beach trip had been Maki’s idea, who had decided to drag Yukari and Ichigo along on her day off. Minami had been visibly glowing when the officer and dog had shown up, latching onto Ichigo within seconds.

“It’ll be fun!”

A watermelon, six icecreams, and more sand than anyone was happy with later, the four of them lay on their giant blanket. Ichigo rolled over with a groan, demanding attention from the three humans. He was still damp from his ocean sojourn, the smell of the salt water overpowering even the smell of wet dog. Minami halfheartedly reached out to scratch him, worn out from the hours of frisbee and swimming. The officer herself was quite content to not move, already achy muscles now all but paralyzed after her own bout of swimming/running from Ichigo and Maki, and then a battle royale that ended with them chasing down Ichigo after he stole their “weapons”.

“We should probably start packing up.”

“Let’s get some dinner!” Maki smiled at her, and the grumbling in her stomach made her answer known.

Suddenly energized, Minami sat up and asked excitedly, “Can we have pizza?”

“That sounds good,” she agreed.

“Pizza it is!”

Packing up took some time, as they had to shake sand out of everything, including the dog. By the time they made it home, the officer, child, and dog had dozed off. She was too tired to say no when Maki told her to stay, and when she left early the next day after being called into work, it was with a cup of hot chocolate and the breakfast the two sisters decided to make for “their favorite officer.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

“Ready to take off, Someya?”

She yawned and nodded, exhausted as the stress of nearly a week of long shifts started to catch up with her. The entire department had worked overtime for the last six days, trying to close a high profile case that came up. She’d been pulled off of her normal shift and given a day shift for the duration, for reasons the chief hadn’t bothered explaining. It was wreaking havoc on her internal clock, and she hadn’t had a day off in two weeks now. Her apartment was seen only long enough to shower and nap before she went right back to work. Ichigo, too, was exhausted, though the mention of home had him up and ready to go.

Even her father’s precinct was working on the case. She rarely saw him, but the two or three times they had a chance to talk in person was more than their different schedules generally allowed.

An arm was thrown around her shoulder, an obnoxious scent invading her nose, and an equally obnoxious voice speaking to her. “Hey babe, want a drink? Or three? I’ve got you covered.”

She shrugged the arm off and immediately tried to put enough distance between the her and the new transfer that she didn’t have to smell him. “As if,” she said coldly.

He started to speak, most likely in an attempt to push the issue, when Tanuki dropped a hand on his shoulder and gripped, hard. “Back off there, kid. She’s not interested, she’s taken, and she’s  _ Chief  _ Someya’s daughter. Out of your league in every way.”

She wanted to object to at least one of his points, but if that’s what it took to make the guy leave her alone, she would let it slide  _ this _ time. The transfer sulked off, heading straight for another of the female officers just getting off duty.

“New guys. Gotta hate ‘em,” Tanuki snorted in disgust, walking back to his desk grumbling.

Yukari wholeheartedly agreed.

“Yukari.”

She turned to see her father leaving her chief’s office, coat draped over his arm and peppered hair tousled from his habit of running his hand through it. He cocked his head, and she immediately headed to his side.

“Apparently you’re coming over for dinner,” he informed her as they walked out. It was long after sunset, but being a Saturday, the city was alive and noisy.

“Mmm. Mom doesn’t believe we eat when we work, does she?” she asked with a laugh, knowing full well that her father forgot his lunch seemingly every other day. Her own tendency to skip lunch was nearly as bad, she admitted to herself.

“Oh, she  _ knows _ we don’t. I suspect she makes use of her spies on the force.” They reached her father’s car first, and before she could walk to her own, he stopped her and added, “When we get home, you can tell me who you’re dating. Oh and, your grandparents are over as well.”

She froze mid-step, her cheeks turning red without her permission. ‘ _ Remain calm. He has heard of Maki. It wouldn’t be hard to explain the truth. Wait, did they even mention Maki? Perhaps he just overheard Tanuki earlier. Okay. That’s probably it. I can deal with that easily enough. _ ’ 

The truth would have to wait, as by the time she shook herself out of her surprised state her father was already backing out, giving her a short wave and smirk through the car window.

The officer took a deep breath and hurried on to her car, telling herself that it wouldn’t be  _ that  _ bad. It wasn’t true, after all, no matter what Tanuki, Takaoka, and half the precinct, including the chief, believed.

“Dear, you have a  _ boyfriend _ ? How long have you been together? Who is he? What does he do? Can he provide for you?”

She was overwhelmed by questions the minute she walked into the door, and she inwardly cursed at the slow drivers who had prevented her from reaching her parent’s house in record time. Her father couldn’t have been home for more than a few minutes, so how was it that the whole house “knew” about her “boyfriend”? Did he just walk in and announce it to them all?

...Knowing him, he probably had.

During the tirade, her grandmother, Tsukiyo, was pulling her into the kitchen where the rest of the family was setting up dinner. Ichigo calmly followed along, happy that they were heading for the food and expecting to snatch some scraps from Keiji.

“I don’t have a boyfriend!” she protested, hoping it would end the topic.

Her mother gasped. “Oh, it’s Maki?!”

“Wha-” Even her own mother?!

“Shoutarou and Azusa never mentioned this,” Keiji said with a frown.

“Because we’’re not-wait. How do you know-”

Her grandfather interrupted her as if she hadn’t been talking. “Who is this Maki?”

“ _ Will you listen to me _ ?”

“The artist and fencer I told you about. She’s part of the country’s olympic fencing team,” Tomomi informed her in-laws, smiling widely in excitement. “Ichigo loves her.”

“That’s impressive. You landed yourself a good one there, Yukari.” Tsukiyo gave her a thumbs up.

“Please. We’re just friends. We aren’t dating.”

Thankfully, the subject was dropped, though not without knowing glances she pointedly ignored. Dinner was otherwise enjoyable, it being one of the rare times when the entire family was together. Her hopes of getting through the night without another mention of Maki was ruined when the artist herself called her after they had all moved to the living room. 

“Hello?” she answered shortly, doing her best to pretend that she wasn’t affected by the four sets of eyes watching her with various levels of curiosity and suspicion.

“ _ Yukari-san! _ ”

“Maki-san.”

She saw her family start laughing, and seriously considered hiding in the kitchen for the duration of the call.

“ _ Um, is this a bad time? _ ”

“No, no. Did something happen?”

“ _ Sort of. My father and I got a call from one of the magazines we freelance for. They want us to go to the southern end of the island to cover a story. The original team got into an accident, and they need people down there by Monday. _ ”

“That’s really sudden. How long will you be gone?”

“ _ Three weeks, possibly longer. _ ”

“Oh…” It was hard to keep her disappointment out of her voice. They’d hardly seen each other this week, and now Maki was going to be gone for almost a month? Work was work, she knew, but still. 

“ _ Our flight is leaving late tomorrow night, but we’re all going out for lunch beforehand. You should come with us! You were so busy these past couple of weeks, and now I’m leaving…” _

“I. Are you sure? If it’s a family thing…”

“ _ Minami has already forced me to the store so we can buy treats for Ichigo. _ ”

She could practically  _ hear  _ the smile Maki was no doubt sporting.

“If you’re sure. I suppose it would be rude of me to let down Minami-chan.”

“ _ We can’t wait!” _

After getting the time and place of the lunch meeting she ended the call with a grin.

“Got a date with your girlfriend?”

She flinched, heart stopping when she remembered that her family was sitting twenty feet away and could hear her half of the conversation.

“She’s not my girlfriend.” Why was it so hard to meet anyone’s eyes when she said that? She made her way back to the couch and only just stopped herself from throwing herself onto the cushions like a sulky teenager. “Her and her father are being sent south for a few weeks. She invited me to lunch with her family before they leave tomorrow night. That’s  _ all _ .”

“Oh, a meet the parents! Nervous?”

Would it would be considered rude if she just left now? Besides, she’d already met Maki’s mother multiple times, though her father was more of a mystery.

“Shoutarou’s being sent south?”

  
“...Seriously. Since when have  _ you  _ known the Kamijou family, dad?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

_ “Oh shit. SHIT! What the hell are you doing, you fucking idiot?! Don’t just stand there! Find her goddamn partner! Fuck. C’mon, Someya. Don’t you do this to me, goddamn you. WHERE IS THAT AMBULANCE?! And get a call to precinct 80  _ now _!” _

Consciousness was slow to return to the officer, her senses turning on one by one. Through the fogginess she could make out the beeping of familiar machines, though they sounded distorted, as if everything was underwater.

Forcing her eyelids open, she took in the white tiles that greeted her. It was dark, wherever she was, the lights dimmed so that didn’t completely drive nails into her head. It didn’t take long for her to piece together her location. She was at the hospital, and judging from the way she felt, she was likely to be there for some time.

It was a common myth that when having a near death experience, your life would flash before your eyes, your brain stretching a precious second to replay the entirety of your life from birth to present, allowing you to reflect on and mourn all your missed opportunities or regrets.

Yukari figured that she was inherently wired to skip all that reflective nonsense and focus on the most important things, because the last thing she remembered was praying for Ichigo to catch the bastard who had shot her, hoping the guy who had tackled her off the second story warehouse walkway was dead, and bizarrely wishing she had a nice cup of hot chocolate on her.

Her attempts at moving were mostly unsuccessful, only one of her arms obeying her mental orders. That did, at least, attract some attention from whoever was in the room, but she lost the fight to keep her eyes open as she heard her name being called. Later. She would talk later, when it didn’t hurt so much to stay awake.

**~X~**

“Here, take it easy.”

“Thanks.”

She took the small cup of water her father handed her, wincing at her lack of strength. Aside from various gunshot wounds -one that had missed her vest, and three that had been stopped but left enormous bruises-, she’d crashed into a pile of crates that had given her a concussion, a fractured wrist, a fractured shoulder, and a snapped leg that had required surgery to fix. Her leg had been the worst injured, as her fall had caused an avalanche of heavy crates, one of which had landed on it. From what the doctor told her, she was lucky to have already been unconscious when her leg had snapped. It would be months before she could walk on it properly, and she would still need physical therapy afterwards.

Of course, she could have easily  _ died  _ as well.

Her father took the cup when she was done drinking, knowing she didn’t have the strength to put it back without spilling it. “Where’s mom?”

“She went to get some lunch just before you woke up.”

Her mother hadn’t left the hospital since her arrival, though Yukari had finally convinced her to go home tonight, and  _ stay  _ there for at least a full day to sleep and rest. She didn’t want her mother to get sick herself.

It wasn’t like she was going to  _ go  _ anywhere with her entire left side immobilized after all, and she wasn’t even awake most of the day, thanks to all the pain medication she was on.

The first thing she had asked about, once she was capable of talking, was Ichigo and the two shooters she had been chasing. The one who had fallen with her was dead before her backup had arrived, and Ichigo had taken down the one who had shot her. Her father had shared that her canine partner had almost refused to let go of the guy, and had to be held back by Takaoka when the ambulance had taken her. The poor dog had been distraught nearly to violence at her condition, only quieting when her father had arrived at the scene to take him.

“Where is Ichigo staying?” She hadn't been awake long enough to ask about where her partner was staying before, but she assumed he was with her grandparents or the station kennel, as her parents had been in the hospital with her most of their days.

“We had him in the station kennels, since none of us were really home. We didn't want him to be alone. He howled the entire first day, and refused to eat.” Her father caught the worry on her face and rested his hand on her arm. “Don't worry. We already took him out. He didn't want to eat with my parents either, but mom solved that problem. He's staying with Maki-san right now. He's still depressed, but he's eating.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, glad that her poor partner was doing better. He wasn’t allowed into the hospital to see her, so all the poor dog knew was that his handler was gone. They’d never been separated longer than a few hours, and she herself felt a little anxious at his absence.

“She’s visited often, by the way. Maki,” he clarified. “You were sleeping though, and she didn’t want to leave Ichigo for long.”

Though disappointed that she had missed the visits, she couldn’t help but smile. As much as she could through the haze of medication and exhaustion, anyway.

“Here’s your phone. She left some messages for you.”

It wasn’t until her parents had left, the setting sun bathing her room orange, that she forced her shaking hand to access her messages.

_ You’ve been sleeping a lot, but I figured that when you were awake, you might want something to make you smile. _

The rest were pictures. Of her trip. Of Ichigo. Of the people who had stopped by to bring her gifts while she was still comatose.

_ Ichigo misses you, but I promise I’m taking good care of him _ .

_ Your grandparents are lovely people. They had lots of stories to share with me. _

_ Minami wants to sign your cast, though she may just end up drawing all over it. It’ll be the best looking cast ever~ _

_ The officers you work with are an interesting group. They called me your girlfriend? _

_ Ichigo has taken to sleeping at the foot of my bed. _

_I gave in and let him sleep on_ _the bed. He just isn’t as happy without you._

_ Neither am I. _

She fell asleep with her phone in hand, and tears dripping from her chin.

**~X~**

“Yukari?”

Her eyes shot open. “Maki,” she coughed, voice rough with lack of energy and the effects of the medication.

That didn’t seem to matter to the artist, who looked so relieved to see her awake, talking,  _ alive _ , that tears pooled in her eyes. She was at Yukari’s side in an instant, gently taking a hold of her hand and, with the officer’s encouragement, seating herself at the edge of her bed. Maki wasted no time in leaning into her, sniffling into her good shoulder.

The hospital gown was too thin to pretend Maki wasn’t crying, and she had to force herself to take several deep breaths through her closed throat to keep herself from doing the same. She cursed her casts and splints, wishing she could just wrap her arms around the artist and comfort her.

“When they called me, they hadn’t been given any word on your condition. I raced to the airport and got on the first flight here.” Maki said in between sniffles. “I didn’t know if you would. If you would still be alive when I got here.”

Slipping her hand free, she did her best to -carefully- throw her arm around the woman, tangling a stiff hand in her hair. What was she supposed to say? She’d been lucky, very lucky, and she knew it. It was the sort of thing that came with the job. You could either accept it, or quit. 

“I’m sorry.”

And she was. Sorry for scaring her, for putting her through the very thing she had hated the most growing up, for not being able to reassure her  _ now _ .

Tears rolled down her cheeks, because apparently she hadn’t cried enough last night. She’d been hurt before, yes, back when all of her relationships, friends, family, or romantic, were strained or breaking, back when she had been angrier and unhappy. But even then, none of those incidents were anywhere near as bad as this.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, the choked words lost in the artist’s hair.

Maki pulled away just enough that she could reach up and wipe some of the tears from her face. “You’re alive. That’s all that matters now.”

Neither of them could really smile, not yet, but for now they could be content with holding each other.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

“Oh, Yukari! What are you doing out?”

She sighed, debating whether she had the energy to respond.

“Ayana, Jun, and Yuuho. It’s nice to see you.”

The rounds of “Someya-san” came, and she decided to just let her mother do the speaking. She was still trying to recuperate after the relocation to her wheelchair, which had been a hell of a lot more tiring than it had any right to be.

“We thought some fresh air would be nice.”

There had been no hesitation on her part when her mother had asked the nurses about getting her out of her room for a time. It had taken a lot of convincing and arguing, and her mother had even dragged the nurse aside to have a private word with her. Whatever Tomomi had said was enough to gain their approval -as if a mere nurse stood a chance against her mother’s interrogation skills-, and so began the laborious process of moving the patient.

Now she was tired and sweaty, but free from the confines of her boring room.

“I guess you’re improving, then?”

“Getting there.” She didn’t mean to be quite that short with them, but her leg  _ hurt _ . She didn’t take to pain nearly as well as Maki did. Although maybe that was a bad comparison, as Maki was often disturbingly  _ proud  _ of her injuries.

“Here we go.”

The slight bump from crossing through the sliding doors of the hospital into the outdoor area hardly bothered her. The novelty of fresh air and actual grass and trees was too much to take in.  She hadn’t realized how much she missed being outside, and though it wasn’t anything close to her park, it would do for now.

“Thank you for-” she stopped, interrupted by familiar barking and whimpering. “Ichigo?!”

There, next to a bench further on, was her partner, Maki holding onto his leash. He was clearly desperate to run to her, but too well trained to run against orders. The artist was crouched at his side, a hand resting between his ears in an effort to keep him from rushing ahead and accidentally hurting his handler.

“Easy, Ichigo. Easy.”

Once she was settled, they carefully directed the canine to her uninjured side, letting him jump up and rest his paws on the arm of her wheelchair. He sniffed at her, licking her face with enthusiasm. Smiling, she scratching him with her hand, unable to scold him for his happiness.

“Let her breathe, boy.” The licking stopped, and she saw that Maki was scratching Ichigo’s ear. The artist hadn’t tried to pull him away, only wanting to calm him down some. Ichigo obeyed without question, and she was glad that she had taught Maki all of his commands long ago when the weather had started to warm up. She’d only done it because the artist had been interested, not because she ever thought a situation like this would come up, and she certainly never thought that Ichigo would end up staying with the artist.

She took the opportunity to catch her breath and wipe her face. “You brought him,” she said, joy and relief clear in her voice at finally seeing her partner.

“He’s the only one who hasn’t gotten to see you,” Maki explained softly. “Videos don’t come close to measuring up to the real thing.”

The officer rested her head on top of her partner’s, remembering the videos Maki had sent of her partner as he made himself comfortable in her house. “No. They don’t at all.”

“Oh! And.” Maki turned and rifled through the bag that was laying on the bench. “Presents!”

She blinked at the white paper bag that was being held out before her, and then she caught the heavenly smell of fast food. “Is that?”

“Hamburger without cheese, pickles, or tomatoes, and a side of fries.”

Her stomach grumbled, mouth salivating at the treasure that had been delivered. “Normally I would tell you that I’m not allowed, but I could honestly care less right now.”

Maki laughed and handed the bag over. Ichigo sniffed at it, tail wagging. She pulled it away. “Oh no. She spoils you enough as it is. This is  _ mine _ .”

He whimpered, and Maki pouted. She glared at them both. The artist was such a child sometimes! “Fine. Only a  _ few  _ fries, and only because it’s a special occasion.”

“Ahaha. So, are these friends of yours?”

Oh, she’d forgotten that the other four were standing there. “The one with the shorter brown hair is Shizuma Yuuho. The one with the stupid smile is Jun, and the sulking one is Ayana.”

“...Um.”

“Yukari! That’s not very nice.”

“No. It’s okay. We’re used to it.”

“It’s nice to meet you.”

“....Hi.”

She tuned out their conversation, taking a bite of real food for the first time since she had been hospitalized. She watched Maki and Yuuho lure Ichigo away with the promise of fries, her partner near vibrating with excitement and happiness now that he knew his handler was alive and breathing. Her mother rested a hand on her shoulder, watching the three play.

“She spoils him too much,” she huffed, incapable of even pretending to be mad.

As if sensing that she was being talked about, Maki twisted to look at her. “I almost forgot! There’s some hot chocolate for you too.”

Tomomi laughed. “And not just Ichigo, it seems.”

There was nothing she could say to deny that, so instead she ate her portion of the fries in silence, deciding against sharing that she had been craving hot chocolate since she woke up.

“You know, you seem really close with that one. How come we haven’t heard of her, huuuuuh?” Jun asked, giving the artist a mock glare of suspicion.

“It wasn’t any of your business,” she answered without emotion. Maki knew of  _ them _ , as she had mentioned them -and the situation that had made things tense for a while- a few times, but that was different. She saw the artist nearly every day, whereas her interactions with Yuuho, Jun, and Ayana were limited to the rare text and a lunch/breakfast gathering every couple of months or so. Yuuho was the only one who called her with consistency, usually about once a week, even though half the time, she ended up just leaving a voicemail that Yukari would reply to days later.

“So how have you two been?” her mother interjected.

It was easy to sit in silence, letting the various conversations flow around her until Maki brought Ichigo back and let him sniff around her wheelchair, careful to keep him from bumping her cast. She lost track of how long they stayed out there, but at some point the nurses hunted them down and dragged her back to her room. Everyone but her mother departed (not that Maki had much of a choice, having Ichigo with her), but not even the exhausting relocation to her bed could damper her spirits. Well, Ichigo’s pitiful whining and drooping ears as he pushed himself against Maki while she was wheeled away  _ was _ pretty heartbreaking.

“Thank you for taking me out there. I needed that.”

Tomomi smiled at her, running a hand through her daughter’s hair like she used to when Yukari was a child. “I know you did. It was Maki’s idea, though she has wanted to bring him for a week now. She was ready to take a leaf out of your father’s book.”

Her brow furrowed. That didn’t sound like a good thing, considering the sorts of ideas her father came up with on occasion. “What do you mean?”

“I was shot during a manhunt once, after we had been dating for a year. I had to be kept for some time, and Keiji decided to bring my canine, Toro, to visit in order to cheer me up. I decided I would marry him that day.” Her mother shook her head and chuckled.

“...That idiot.” It sounded exactly like something her father would do, in all honesty. 

Tomomi grinned, teeth flashing as she held back her laughter at the memory. “As charming as it was, he did get banned from visiting, and I didn’t think you would enjoy going that long without seeing Maki.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

“Are you feeling alright?”

“Now that I’m out of the hospital, I feel a lot better.”

Minami sent her a wide smile from the passenger seat. “Maki and I cleaned out the  _ whole  _ house. We moved all the furniture so you would have more space, and even bought a recliner so you could keep your leg up. The delivery people wouldn’t bring it in the house, so dad and Keiji-san did all the heavy lifting. Your mom said the work was good for them.”

She hadn’t realized how close her and Maki’s parents had become until she was hospitalized, and she was consistently accompanied by at least her mother and one of the other parents. Shoutarou, Maki’s father, flew back home two days after his daughter, having stayed down south solely to finish up their work and get replacements flown out. In spite of having only met him once, just before they left for their project, he had been a regular visitor, keeping Tomomi company while Keiji and Azusa were at work.

“I think they wanted to order food.”

“Are they all at your house?” She hadn’t expected, or wanted, a party for her release from the hospital. The only thing she really craved was to be able to sleep on a real bed.

Maki caught her eyes from the rearview mirror. “ _ Our  _ house.”

The words sank in slowly. Our house. It wouldn’t be for very long, she knew. The arrangements would last until her cast came off in a couple months, but somehow that seemed like such a long time from then. Her time in the hospital alone had felt like years, and though she would have far more freedom in comparison to her stay there, she was still severely limited by her injuries. Time, she already knew, would drag, especially when Maki was gone for work. “...I do still have my apartment, you know.”

“Why?” Minami turned around again. “I thought you were moving in!”

She blinked. “Uh, well, I am, while my casts are on. I can’t stay on my own right now.”

The youngest Kamijou sent her an exact replica of her sister’s (unreasonably cute and devastatingly effective) pout. “So you’re  _ not  _ living together and getting married?”

The car swerved into the thankfully empty opposite lane. “Minami!” the artist yelled once they were back in the right lane, voice strangled.

Wait. Wait.  _ What?  _ Yukari had to force herself to start breathing, not sure which sister had startled her more. Dropping her head into her hand, face bright red from embarrassment, she said “No, Minami. That is  _ not  _ what we’re doing.” She was used to the constant “girlfriend” comments, but  _ marriage _ ? They hadn’t even gotten to the dating part!

...Not that she thought about dating Maki. Not, not  _ that  _ often. 

“But dad said you were practically married already.”

Maki sighed. “Oh boy. Minami, no.”

“And mom and Tomomi-san said it would be good for you two to settle down.”

“ _ Mom _ ,” she hissed under her breath. They would definitely have a talk later. A  _ long  _ one.

“And we’re home! Minami, get the luggage!” Maki jumped out of the car with unusual exuberance, running around to the trunk to wrestle out the compacted wheelchair.

She waited patiently in the car, smiling when Ichigo peered out of the open door, then ran when he spotted her in the car. Maki had to fight with both wheelchair and dog to get Yukari settled, but they managed to get her out of the car without injury. 

Tomomi hurried out of the house to calm the canine and greet Yukari eagerly. “Oh, aren’t you glad to be out of the hospital?”

“ _ Very  _ glad.”

“You arrived just in time. The pizza was delivered ten minutes ago. Come, Ichigo.”

The canine led the group into the house, but not without constantly looking back to ensure his handler was following. Their long separation had taken its toll on him, and while Maki was an acceptable substitute, judging by his relatively good mood, he had still missed her.

A large banner welcoming her home hung proudly in the living room, created through the combined efforts of Minami and Shoutarou as Maki explained with a whisper. She was greeted with smiles and hugs, the presence of her grandparents a pleasant surprise. The house was a little crowded, but it was  _ nice _ . There was laughter, and food, and easy conversation flowing. She hadn’t been this comfortable with this many people in a long, long time.

It wasn’t until the inevitable retelling of humiliating childhood memories began that Maki and MInami retreated to the couch where Yukari had settled, the three torn between laughing and cringing in horror. As much as she enjoyed learning more of Maki’s childhood, she didn’t much care for the stories her own parents had in their arsenal.

“You kidnapped your neighbor’s dog and dressed it in your father’s uniform?”

“....At least I didn’t get stuck in a tree. How did you even get that high up?”

“Aha. I was very determined.”

**~X~**

Somewhere in the house, a clock ticked away, the noise faintly audible above the whirring of the ceiling fan in her room. There were no other sounds to be heard, the silence almost oppressive in the dark. It was far quieter than she was used to, unnervingly so. The hospital had been noisy even at night, with the tapping of shoes in the hallways, the beeping of various machines, and the squeaking of wheels as equipment or patients were moved.

She hadn’t realized, until the second night at Maki’s, just how much the silence reminded her of her brush with death, of laying there, bleeding out, Ichigo’s barking fading as he chased after the suspect and her own consciousness wavered, and then...nothing. Nothing but black where some people would probably relive their entire life, or talk with dead relatives, or walk into the light, or whatever other cliche near death experience people had.

Taking deep, measured breaths in a weak attempt at some sort of meditation, she tried to keep her panic at bay. The first night out of the hospital she’d been so worn out from the move and party that she had fallen into a deep sleep without trouble, but on the second night, the nightmares had struck. Now, whenever she closed her eyes, she was back on the warehouse floor, splinters from the crates she’d fallen on stabbing her back and legs, blood dripping from her head, her leg, shoulder, and wrist screaming in pain, and her body on fire where she had been shot.

And in the realm of dreams, there was no Takaoka to the rescue, no awakening in the hospital, only darkness; infinite, heavy, and lonely.

“Yukari.”

Several curses escaped her mouth, both at the unexpected voice sounded, and when her startled jump jostled her cast-laden and still sensitive leg. Her heart skipped several beats, her hand blindly reached for a gun that wasn’t there.

Maki entered the room and approached slowly. Sitting on the bed and carefully pulling the panicked officer into a hug, she said, “Shhhh. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Yukari held onto her like her life depended on it, and surely her sanity did. She let the quiet assurances of the artist cut through her fear, eventually loosening her grip and relaxing in the Maki’s gentle hold. She couldn’t say how long she sat there, unwilling to let go of the woman, but at some point Maki moved to get up, and she had to fight herself to keep from holding her down. Her inner battle was for naught, as the artist pulled the sheets back and slid in next to her. They settled for sleep, Maki curled up at her side, head on her uninjured shoulder and arm around her waist.

She wanted to say she was fine, wanted to feel guilty; for disturbing her, for needing her, for being weak, but it felt  _ right  _ to have her there. The artist was warm, and real, and so very comforting.

“Sleep, Yukari,” Maki quietly ordered, kissing her cheek affectionately. 

Closing her eyes and giving a deep sigh of satisfaction, she did just that, never noticing when Ichigo decided to join them in bed.

**~X~**

“Thanks, mom.”

Tomomi placed the bags of groceries she was delivering down on the table and waved her hand. “It’s no problem. I know that Maki didn’t expect to be so busy this week.”

“Busy” was an understatement. Between an emergency assignment for her and Shoutarou to photograph a three day convention two hours away, covering for the manager of Asuza’s second store thirty minutes away, and training for an overseas competition she’d been signed up for, Maki was stretched thin this week, without even adding in things like grocery shopping and other household chores. 

That wasn’t to say Yukari was feeling bitter about her lack of presence. The officer had pushed Maki out the door, insisting that she was injured not an invalid, and that she could take care of the house for a few days. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have help if she needed it, after all. She could warm up food in the microwave, and stand long enough to prepare simple meals. 

“It’s only for two more days, but I don’t think even she will have energy left to get any shopping done this weekend. She barely has enough time to shower and eat every night.”

“Azusa has been running around too, working at both stores. But are you sure you don’t need anything else?”

“No, this is fine.”

She was given a knowing look. “And how are you dealing with the restlessness?”

Yukari cringed. It took all of her self control not to push herself to do more physical activities, restlessness getting the best of her more often than not. Being in the wheelchair all day made her achy and irritable. She was too used to constantly moving around, and now that she wasn’t on the stronger pain medications, she had more energy than she knew what to do with. Luckily for everyone involved, her right arm was fully functional, and Maki had plenty of art supplies to keep her entertained.

“I’m...managing it. I’ve drawn more in the past weeks than I have in years. I’ve watched nearly every fencing competition Maki owns, and most of her movies,” she rolled her eyes, “I don’t know why she has so many tearjerkers. She cries every time.”

And whenever Maki started sniffling, she inevitably clung to the unimpressed officer for the remainder of the night, but that was neither here nor there.

“Do you need help washing anything? Clothes? Sheets and blankets on your bed?” her mother asked after chuckling.

“No, we do that on Saturdays.” That was their official laundry day, if they didn’t have anywhere to go. It was another thing to get used to, as Yukari was used to just washing her clothes whenever she eventually ran out of clean uniforms. It wasn’t as if she had had any sort of life outside of work, training, and...Maki.

“I’m glad you’ve adapted to staying here. You never did sleep well in anything other than your own bed. You’ve stayed in the guest room before this, right?”

“A few times, though I don’t sleep there anymore.”

Tomomi stopped, closed the cabinet slowly, then turned around with her eyebrows raised. “Oh?”

She stiffened, avoiding her mother’s eyes. “Uh.” The leaves rustling outside the kitchen window suddenly became very, very interesting. Perhaps she would draw them later.

“Yukari…” There it was; the tone that never failed to make both father and daughter confess their every sin and pray that they would make it out unscathed. Not for the first time, she wondered if her mother had lied about her specialty during her time on the force; she slipped into interrogation mode far too easily with her husband and daughter, and she  _ always  _ got the answer she wanted.

“It’s just to sleep!” she blurted out. “It helps with the. The nightmares.” The last word was murmured with a mix of shame and resignation.

Face softening with understanding, her mother pulled a chair next to her and sat down, grabbing her right hand and squeezing lightly. “How often?” There was no judgement in her tone, only empathy.

“It was every night at first. I was doing better last week, when I started sleeping….with Maki,” she muttered the last part, well aware of how it sounded, considering the amount of teasing her family did about their relationship.

“If you insist, but just remember that you can  _ always  _ call me or your father.”

“I know.” And she did, without a doubt, know that both of her parents had their own share of terrible experiences, things that left permanent scars on their mind. It was one of the first things they had sat her down and talked to her about, back before she had even officially enrolled into the academy. They would always be able to understand what she was going through.

“Good.” Patting her hand, Tomomi stood up and asked, “Now what do you want for lunch? I might as well make something while I’m here.”

“Anything is fine. We have that movie you wanted to see. I can put that on. There’s plenty of time.”

“We?”

“....You know what I mean.”

“Of course, of course. It’s good that you’re so comfortable here.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

“Hey, where are the aluminum bowls?” Shoutarou asked from the kitchen.

“Bottom cabinet on the right, I think,” Yukari said, after shooing Ichigo to his bed. The dog was getting in the way, sniffing around at the food while her parents were trying to move chairs and a poker table into the living room.

The competition that Maki had been obsessively training for was today, and Shoutarou, upon learning that everyone had the day off, thought that it would be fun to have everyone come over and watch the livestream. In the interest of not wearing out the healing Yukari, Maki’s house was the agreed venue of choice.

“Found it, dad!” Minami cheered. She had been relegated as the tech expert, though all she needed to do was get the laptop hooked up to the television and find the livestream.

As the first round of matches began, food was delivered, the rules explained, and stories about notable fencers were shared by Shoutarou. When Maki’s ex-girlfriend took to the piste, Yukari, Minami, and her father didn’t bother to hide their distaste.

Neither did they hide their vindictive glee when she lost in the next round.

“Maki looks more focused than usual,” Yukari noted as they watched Maki prepare for her first bout in the semi-finals.

“Actually, it’s more like she has been focusing normally, after having been in a slump for a year and a half,” Shoutarou corrected, his daughter humming with agreement.

“A slump, huh? Well, it happens to everyone at some point in their career,” Keiji said, grinning when Maki earned herself another point. “What matters is that she worked through it.”

“Would I be correct in assuming that this slump was human induced?” Tomomi asked, taking a break from taunting Ichigo with dog treats.

Shoutarou winced and nodded. “It ended badly,” was all the photographer offered on the subject, though he had to scold his youngest on the startlingly rude things about Maki’s ex that she stage whispered to Ichigo.

Privately, Yukari agreed with all the insults the girl had to offer, and had a few more of her own that would have earned her a sound scolding had she voiced them aloud. The subject wasn’t one that Maki brought up often, or said much of when it was, but the officer had understood all of what  _ hadn’t  _ been said. Needless to say, she wasn’t a fan of the French fencer.

“We should light a candle to bring Maki luck in the final match!”

“....I don’t think it works like that, Minami-chan.”

“You used all of them during Halloween anyway.”

“Oh yeah! That was fun!”

“Tell that to the curtains…”

**~X~**

“I don’t understand why we have to move your stuff.”

“ _ Minami _ .” Maki crossed her arms and attempted to adopt a stern attitude, failing miserably. Intense, she could do; stern, she couldn’t. It was almost cute, in a way.

“Why does she need to leave? Ichigo is happy here, most of her stuff is here. It’s not like you don’t have room!” The youngest Kamijou pouted unhappily, reluctantly piling a box of Yukari’s things in the trunk.

“You know I won’t need 24 hour help after I get cast off, Minami-chan.”

The girl just grumbled, and refused to answer. Maki tended to go quiet when the topic of the officer leaving was brought up, Yukari sure as hell didn’t  _ want _ to leave, and even Ichigo was against the move. The few times they had been to her apartment that week, he had sniffed around before sitting by the door, moving to his dusty pet bed only after they started cleaning.

‘ _ We don’t belong here, _ ’ he seemed to say. ‘ _ Not anymore _ .  _ Let’s go home. _ ’

With every box that Maki placed in her living room, she felt herself agree a little more, but none of that mattered. Her stay at Maki’s house had already been extended as far as it could. Six weeks for her shoulder to heal turned into thirteen weeks for her leg cast to come off. Conversations with her parents about moving back to her apartment now held the awkward weight of “ _ are  _ you going to move out?”

She was relieved that they never outright asked, because lying to her parents was never an option, but how could she admit she didn’t want to, without that leading to a conversation she wasn’t emotionally prepared to have?

No, she only count down the days with something like dejection, and if Maki noticed that she was a little more reluctant to leave bed every morning, that was fine. She knew she wasn’t the only one.

**~X~**

“I think. I have reached a new low.”

Ichigo ignored her in favor of sniffing at a bush along the sidewalk.

“Here I thought I was above this sort of thing. Which, really, only belongs in some sappy movie or novel.” She kicked at the ground in an uncharacteristic moment of childish frustration, an annoyed glare stuck on her face. “It’s not like it could be helped. I’m sensitive to change after working night shifts so long, and of course I adapted.”

Her partner wandered back to her side, suddenly alert as he began to recognize the area.

“That’s all there is to it.” Stopping at the all too familiar driveway, she let Ichigo bolt ahead of her for the door. She didn’t follow him, unable to bring herself to stray further than the sidewalk. Listening to his insistent barks and scratching of the screen door, she sighed. “Right. Who am I kidding?”

Whistling sharply, she waited for Ichigo to obey. The poor dog seemed confused, sitting and tilting his head at her. Whistling again, she watched as he reluctantly obeyed, rambling back to her while visibly upset that they weren’t staying.

“I know, boy.”

Yes, she certainly did.

Turning away, she started back the way she had come. Her leg was aching fiercely, what began as a low throb now a fiery thrumming of pain with every step. It was beyond reckless of her, to go traipsing around the town when she had only just gotten her cast taken off two days ago, but it wasn’t like she  _ planned  _ to take a walk after another sleepless night, in the middle of winter.

“Yukari!”

She faltered, wincing when she wound up placing a little too much weight on her bad leg. Ichigo spun and ran back to greet his second favorite person, who had just pulled into her driveway and climbed out of her car. She was definitely in no condition to be out, if she hadn’t noticed the  _ car  _ pulling up.

Drawing herself up in an attempt to hide her pain and appear as normal as possible, she spun around and tried to come up with something, anything to explain what in the hell she was doing roaming around so late. A sense of deja vu came over her, and she spared a moment to hope that this wasn’t going to become a common occurrence.

“I was going to make cookies.”

She blinked, and, after a beat, relaxed her shoulders and dropped her head. Of course Maki would ignore the necessity of silly things like explanations. “...This late at night?”

“I promised Minami I would make some for her class tomorrow, since they’re having a Christmas party, but I got caught up with work. ….And then I dropped the bag of flour.” Maki shrugged sheepishly, holding up her bag of newly bought flour. Upon closer inspection, Yukari could even make out streaks of white on the woman’s cheek, spots she had missed while presumably attempting to clean herself up before going to the store. “I could use the help?”

“...Okay.”

“You don’t have to, if you don’t want to. It  _ is  _ late, and you should be resting and-”

“Get inside.”

“Right.” Maki rushed to the door, her “scary, isn’t she?” not quite low enough to escape her hearing.

Ichigo jogged along at the artist’s side, barking, either in agreement or at his handler to hurry. She followed the two, defeated yet content. Something  _ would  _ need to be done about her crush on Maki, but that was a problem for another day.

**~X~**

Yukari yawned, sinking into the seat a little more. Blinking sleepily, she stared out of the car window. It was almost too dark to see beyond the headlights, not that there was anything but the mountain walls, painted lines on the asphalt, the sky, and the distant collection of lights that was the city below them to observe.

“We’re almost there.” Maki’s voice was low, barely audible above the soft music of the radio. 

Fumbling for a granola bar in her pack, she slowly ate in an effort to stay awake. They’d taken a trip to some small town, Maki going because she needed to do some work there, and Yukari going because it was her two days off and it was better than staying at home. Ichigo was sleeping in the back seat, stretched out and fully content, his worn out K-9 plush resting between his paws.

They had originally planned on staying the two nights and two days, but Maki had mentioned that she wanted to drive out to watch the sunrise from the mountain; an hour long trip from the hotel. Instead of making her drive out there and back, Yukari decided they could cut the trip short and go along with her, heading home straight from the mountain. The artist had put up a half-hearted argument, which was quickly waved off.

It wasn’t much longer until the car slowed and they pulled aside into a small parking lot next to the edge of the mountain. Neither one made a move to get out, content to sit in the heated car. It was well into winter, and this high up, the wind had a bite to it that her thin jacket couldn’t hope to stand against.

“I came to this town during my summer break, after my first year of secondary school.” Maki reclined her seat back a few notches, pulling out her own granola bar. “My father had some work here, and we all came along. I had just quit the fencing club. Too much antagonism from the other members. They hated me for my talent, for my mother’s achievements, for being divided over art and fencing. It didn’t help that the club lost every team event in our competitions, while I won nearly every singles event. Fencing stopped becoming fun for me when I was with them, so I quit.” The way Maki spoke, without her usual blithe dismissal, showed just how much she had hated being in the fencing club, inasmuch as the artist hated anything. Impulsively, she reached over and grabbed Maki’s hand. 

“Good,” she said shortly, feeling a rush of anger on her friend’s behalf. “They didn’t deserve you.” 

The artist smiled softly and threaded their fingers together. “My father brought me up here to paint the sunset. We had only planned on being here for a few hours, but somehow it was nearly dark when we left.” She laughed, “My mother was ready to call a search team by the time we got back.”

“...That sounds exactly like something you would do.” She wondered if there was more to this spot than Maki was telling her, but there was no way of knowing with that one. Getting the artist to talk about deeper emotions,  _ seriously  _ talk about them, was near impossible.

“Do you think he will let us steal the blanket?”

Glancing back at Ichigo, whose front half was resting atop the thickest blanket, she calculated her chance of successfully wrestling it from him. “We may have to bribe him with a treat.”

His ears perked up, and within a minute, he had received his treat and they had rescued the blanket. Climbing on top of the car, which was pleasantly warm beneath them, they curled up under the blanket and sipped on their coffeeshop acquired hot chocolate, waiting for the sun to rise. It was disturbingly date-like and romantic, and a tiny bout of shyness came over her. Sipping at her hot chocolate self-consciously, she tried to calm herself down.

‘ _ It’s not that serious. It’s only Maki. _ ’

Well. Not the best argument she could have used against herself.

‘ _ Let’s be honest. How is this any less “romantic” than curling up on the couch together, taking vacations together, or sleeping in the same bed? ...Okay. Definitely not helping. I really am hopeless. _ ’

“Yukari?”

“Sorry, what?” Whoops.

‘ _ Focus, now. On anything  _ other  _ than Maki’s lips next to my ear _ .’

“...Your drink is empty.”

Staring down at her mug, she slowly put it down in her lap. “Right.”

“You aren’t used to being up this early anymore,” Maki told her with a chuckle.

It was true, she’d been on day shifts since her return to work, and her sleep schedule was now fully normal. There had been a chance to return to her graveyard schedule, but her replacement had ended up preferring the graveyard shift, and that was that. Aside from the occasional nightmare, she rarely had reason to wake up before the sun was out anymore.

A cold breeze hit them, penetrating the thick blanket. Maki shivered dramatically, quickly pulling her as close as possible without dragging her into her lap. “Do you think we can get Ichigo up here to sit on our laps?”

It was impossible for her to not be very,  _ very _ , aware of the arm around her waist, and she had to take a long, deep breath to steady her nerves. Nothing she had ever done with her previous boyfriends, or that one kiss from Ayana she tried to forget ever happened, had made her heart race as much as being  _ close  _ to Maki did. Frankly, it had always been this way, but damned if she hadn’t tried her hardest to ignore it.

“Not if you want your car unscratched. The sun will be coming up soon anyway.” 

There was a line of pink that blended into yellow near the horizon, growing brighter with every minute. Thick dark, fluffy clouds floated on from the south, promising rain later in the morning. The town below sat surrounded by sparkling white snow, with the occasional glimpse of leafless branches and dark green coniferous trees. It was peaceful here in the same way her park was, if far more picturesque. “I can see why your father brought you here.”

Maki hummed. “I’m glad I can share it with you,” she murmured.

Irrationally, she was as annoyed as she was flattered by the sentiment, even as she ducked her head to hide her blush. How could the artist say something like that so  _ easily _ , as if it were perfectly normal to drop cheesy, heartfelt, romantic comments? Just  _ thinking  _ about saying things like that herself made her cringe in embarrassment.

There was no way to respond to a comment like that, not that she could really think of, but after so many months of the constant touching and holding and cuddling and all around being the girlfriends they claimed they  _ weren’t _ , she did the only thing she could think of.

She kissed Maki.

After what seemed like an eternity, Maki kissed her back insistently. Only Ichigo’s whining to be let out interrupted their eager makeout session, and when they eventually left -grinning like total idiots-, she was relieved that her now official girlfriend didn’t ask what had brought that on. But then, knowing Maki, maybe she already knew why.

**~X~**

“MOOOOOOOOM! TOMOMI-SAN! MAKI AND YUKARI ARE DATING NOW!”

“Minami!”

Yukari hid her face behind her hands. 

“Well it’s about time.”

“You owe me lunch, Azusa.”

“Mom! You had a bet?!” She couldn’t believe it! Her own mother!

“If you kissed her first, she wins dinner too.”

She groaned, briefly contemplating disowning her parents.

“Ahaha. Congratulations?” Maki laughed and rubbed the back of her head in embarrassment.

“Oh, your grandmother will be so happy to hear.”

“...I can’t wait,” she said miserably. How had she thought this was a good idea? Could she take it back? Reverse time? Okay, so she didn’t want to go that far, just maybe skip  _ ahead  _ of all the teasing.

Maki wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. “It’ll be fine, Yukari.”

Against her will, she felt her shoulders relax and some of her stress melt away. “Oh well. They think we’ve been dating since before my accident anyway.”

“... _ That  _ explains why they welcomed me to the family the first time we met! I thought she was just unusually nice.”


End file.
